


Fire Follows

by macgyvershe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cold mist, Fire, Fog, M/M, One Hard Man, Short One Shot, What is happening?, serpents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:35:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23726938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macgyvershe/pseuds/macgyvershe
Summary: Sherlock is in a strange place. With strange occurances. What is happening? Who is responsible? Keep reading and find out
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Kudos: 12





	Fire Follows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sherlock fandom](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sherlock+fandom).



Sherlock stood in the fire that attempted to consume him. His heart blazing hotter than any fire could. He begins to walk towards an unknown goal. Not knowing what lay ahead or behind. Striding confidently, knowing not what imperative drives him. Only certain that the journey must be made.

Ahead of him, serpentine shapes emerge from the fires edge; slithering into view. Sentient forms, they turn about Sherlock in ever tightening circles. Reaching inside his Mind Palace, sending spears of sharp thoughts towards the fiery forms; he impales them. They writhe in never-seen-before grotesque motions. Sherlock registers a distinct pattern to their death throes. What is this? Confusion starts to filter into Sherlock’s brain. Illusion, delusion, dream or dementia? 

Then, on the horizon, a misted fog begins its travels toward him; obliterating the fire. The wet cold comes at him quickly. Engulfing him in its icy grip. Drawing his Belstaff tight, pushing forward, he presses toward his instinctual goal. Pulling his coat collar up to drive away the cold from his unprotected face. Squinting against the freezing wind.

Sherlock drops to his knees on the soft soil. Then finds himself vertigo-ing onto his side. Everything closes to black.

(-_-)

Sherlock opens his eyes. He is in 221B. Laying on his couch. John is leaning over him. A worried look on his face.

“There you are.” John smiles at him.

Sherlock startles, moving swiftly away from the ‘fake John’ in front of him. Jumping behind the couch to have some protection from this impostor. This person looks like John, but the voice isn’t John’s.

Fake John clears his throat. Repeatedly. 

“It’s okay, Sherlock. It’s me.” This time the voice is more like John’s but there a tonal qualities that don’t match exactly.

Scanning the apartment, Sherlock knows instantly that this is a meticulous copy of his living space. 

He makes for the door in several large strides.

“He’s rabbiting!” Fake John shouts at someone.

Yanking the door open, Sherlock feels a cold aerosol sprayed directed at his head and his body spirals toward the floor.

(-_-)

Again the fire is attempting to consume him. He’s been here before. Sherlock takes a deep breath and examines the fire more acutely. The fire is more than fire. He walks here and there, seeking out the serpents that encircled him the last time.

There, at the edge of the horizon, the serpents reveal themselves. Closer they approach as Sherlock allows them access to him. He now sees that the serpents are stylized. Their unblinking eyes seem not to seek him out. Their undulating bodies move in a rhythm that is at once soothing and mildly erotic. Why would that be?

Standing in the fire, the serpents happily circling about him. Happily? Can serpents be happy? As if on cue there is a staff in Sherlock’s left hand. Curious and curiouser.

The Rod of Asclepius. The ancient Greek mythological sign of medicine. John!

Gripping the staff, Sherlock watches as a sand colored serpent slowly climbs the thick, gnarled piece of wood in his hand. Reaching his hand the serpent continues on encircling his arm, continuing on and on.

A cold misted fog approaches. Turning away from the serpent at his shoulder, Sherlock uses his right hand to stop the fog. His mind, strong and clear pushes back on the fog. Forbidding it from his presence.

“I see you.” He speaks to the serpent perched on his shoulder who smiles at him. 

From everywhere, night begins to fall. The fire flowing upwards into the starlight.

(-_-)

Sherlock is lying in his bed. An IV is pushing fluids into him. He can feel the warmth of hand over his heart. Opening his eyes, he sees John. His John. 

“It’s you.” 

“None other.” John smiles, relief and love spark his eyes. 

“What?”

“There was a chemical cocktail administer to you. They thought it would kill you. They don’t know Sherlock Holmes the way I do, though. He’s one hard man.”

John leans over, his lips meeting Sherlock’s. There is a promise and a pledge in his kiss. Sherlock revels in the closeness of his consulting Sherlock doctor. The only one in Sherlock’s world.

“Hold me.” Sherlock whispers.

Gently, John ascends onto the bed. Gathering Sherlock up in his strong embrace. 

Sherlock can feel the fire of John’s love consuming him. Willingly, he bathes in the light; the heat of that love.


End file.
